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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26038303">Flightless Bird</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouncey/pseuds/Bouncey'>Bouncey</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>To Carry Your Marks [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Geralt's POV, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier talks in his sleep, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Romantic Soulmates, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:27:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>795</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26038303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouncey/pseuds/Bouncey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>His little lark lay caged in his arms at the moment, flightless and breathing so, so sweetly into the crook of Geralt’s neck. When he woke it would be different. He would be talkative and animated and his face would scrunch its way into all sorts of different expressions and his arms would weave through intricate gesticulations to emphasize his emotions.</p><p>For now, though, his hand rested gently against the back of Geralt’s head and his fingers moved lazily to pet his Flower as he slept. For now he was just a flightless bird in the Witcher’s loving, solid embrace.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>To Carry Your Marks [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807651</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>502</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Flightless Bird</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>"Flightless Bird, American Mouth" - Iron &amp; Wine</p><p>"Then when the cops closed the fair<br/>I cut my long baby hair<br/>And stole me a dog-eared map<br/>And called for you everywhere."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The inn room they'd booked for the night was small and rather dingy and smelled faintly of rotting fish; but none of that mattered right now. All that mattered was the soft, sweet-smelling man curled atop Geralt’s chest, gently drooling into the curly silver hair that grew there. This man who had barely been walking the earth for twenty years, who had been following a feared and hated Witcher on the Path for two of them, who had wintered twice at Kaer Morhen, who could make any person laugh or smile after just a moment of conversation with them, and who was his </span>
  <em>
    <span>soulmate. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His darling Jaskier. His Beloved. His little lark. His Dandelion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Destiny had shown Geralt great favor by bestowing the loyal and headstrong bard to him as his Beloved and the Witcher certainly wasn’t about to complain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier shifted his weight up Geralt’s body and released a snuffling breath. His long, calloused fingers trailed up the skin of the Witcher’s pale jaw and curled gently against the base of Geralt's neck. The very tips twisted their way into his hair and managed to tangle there without pulling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flower,” the bard sighed happily. The Witcher’s slow heart nearly burst in his chest at the dreamy quality of his lover’s sleep-addled voice; he could tell from the younger man’s breathing that the bard was still asleep. It made his Beloved’s unconscious mutterings of his favorite pet-name all the more special. The hand in his hair slid ever so slightly down to cup the base of Geralt’s skull supportively, Jaskier’s fingers still curled through those long white strands. His darling bard often held him like this when he was about to initiate a kiss. His shining pink lips parted and he murmured against the Witcher’s collarbone softly, “Oh, my sweet Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way the pale, thin light of the morning sun was bringing out the red-gold highlights in Jaskier’s hair made the younger man seem even more angelic. More fragile. Geralt knew that Vesemir’s potion had lengthened his Beloved’s life and given him incredible healing capabilities, but he couldn’t help his naturally protective (and possessive) nature. It was part of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even now as they lay undisturbed in their rented bed, one of the Witcher’s large hands was spread protectively at the base of Jaskier’s spine and the other had settled between the bard’s shoulder-blades. This positioning secured him atop Geralt’s chest while also keeping him from getting a crick in his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His darling Beloved had left behind a life of luxury to travel at his side, camping in ditches and sleeping in rainstorms. Keeping him from being mildly injured was the least Geralt could do. After all, he’d been actively avoiding the boy while Jaskier had left his parent’s grand estate to find the Witcher and be by his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I stole one of my father’s largest traveling maps, you know,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jaskier had told him once.</span>
  <em>
    <span>“It was ancient and dog-eared. There were scribbles about cheap inns and warring factions along the edges; valuable information for a merchant Lord but useless to his adventurous son. I was crossing off every city I didn’t find you in as I worked across the Continent with my lute and my shiny new degree in the seven liberal arts. If I made it all the way to Skellige without finding you, my plan was to turn around and do it all over again. All the way to Kaer Morhen if I had to.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You would have found me,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Geralt had replied then. He’d taken a sharp breath in, as if he was surprised. As if he didn’t already know that Jaskier would have found him and claimed him come the nine hells or high water. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Of course, my Flower. I'll always find you. I couldn't stop thinking about you. You’re all over my skin.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His little lark lay caged in his arms at the moment, flightless and breathing so, so sweetly into the crook of Geralt’s neck. When he woke it would be different. He would be talkative and animated and his face would scrunch its way into all sorts of different expressions and his arms would weave through intricate gesticulations to emphasize his emotions. He would whirl through the room like a summer storm, sweeping up their belongings and sorting their packs as he went. He would order them breakfast, pay for it with the coin he earned as last night’s entertainment, and beam so brightly that Geralt’s heart would surely skip a slow, lingering beat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, though, his hand rested gently against the back of Geralt’s head and his fingers moved lazily to pet his Flower as he slept. For now he was just a flightless bird in the Witcher’s loving, solid embrace.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I just wanted something soft tonight and this is what happened.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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